


Put On Your Mask (We're Going Shopping)

by shanahane



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batbrothers (DCU), Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Coming Out, Family, Fluff, Humor, The ages are all wrong I know, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26194069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanahane/pseuds/shanahane
Summary: It's been... some time since Bruce has done any sort of shopping. Still, somehow, miraculously, the trip to the supermarket is a not a complete disaster. One could even describe it as successful.At least no one is kidnapped.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Wally West (mentioned), Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 302





	Put On Your Mask (We're Going Shopping)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based on how I had to do grocery shopping quite drastically sleep-deprived while I still worked crazy hours at the airport and when my wife and I had to go shopping for the first time since figuring out we can get our groceries delivered.
> 
> A super quick fluff piece I decided to write to soothe my inner anxiousness as I wait to hear if I still have a job.

“Tell me again why we are here?”

“To get groceries.” 

“No, why are we  _ all _ here?” 

Bruce sighs. Of his four boys, Dick is the only one who had not protested when Bruce had announced they were going grocery shopping. In fact, his oldest apparently saw this as an opportunity to showcase his many - oh, so many - vibrantly colored and/or patterned face masks and while Bruce appreciates Dick’s enthusiasm, he appreciates his face in Instagram sporting a Superman facemask quite a bit less. 

The three younger boys have, however, formed a unified front of ‘no’. Jason has been the most vocal about his displeasure while Tim keeps his nose in his tablet and Damian’s forehead is creased in such a frown that Bruce fears the seven-year-old will soon have wrinkles. They’ve all put on their masks that Dick has selected for them and none of the three are happy with what their brother has chosen. 

“Specifically, why is  _ he _ here?” Jason continues, pointing at Dick. His neon pink mask clashes with his brown leather jacket quite terribly. “Isn’t he an adult with his own apartment? He should be doing his own grocery shopping instead of subjecting us to his horrible fashion choices!”

“Wally doesn’t want me to stay alone when he’s off-world. He says I barely pass as functional when he’s not around to make sure I eat something other than cereal,” Dick says. He doesn’t sound at all bothered about his boyfriend’s less than flattering (‘but accurate’ Bruce privately thinks) opinion of his life skills. 

“I’d rather live off cereal for two weeks than do this,” Jason mumbles. 

“I, too, would agree to lower my nutritional standards for as long as needed if it meant we could go home,” Damian chimes in. His mask has a painted nose and whiskers on it. 

“We’re rich, why don’t we just order take out until we can get our groceries delivered again?” Jason asks. 

“All right, but you have to tell Alfred,” Bruce replies. “Come on, this won’t take long. In and out in 30 minutes.” 

“Do you even know how this works?” Tim asks. “When’s the last time you’ve even been to a supermarket?” 

“And  _ that _ is the real reason why I am here,” Dick says before Bruce can answer. “Because I do in fact do my own grocery shopping these days. I will be your navigator!”

“I have been shopping with you and Wally. Together you form a somewhat efficient team but separately I think you’re both hopeless,” Tim says. 

“Maybe but that doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around,” Dick says. “Cheer up, guys! How about you all get to pick something you want but don’t need?”

“Cool, I’ve been thinking about getting a machine gun.”

Bruce frowns. “I’m sure they don’t sell machine guns.”

“This is America, Bruce, they totally sell machine guns,” Dick says to Bruce’s displeasure. “And I meant something normal for children…”

“I’m not a child!” three separate voices cry from the backseat. 

Bruce sighs again. 

“No one’s getting a gun,” he says. “But sure, you all get to pick a treat. Something reasonable. The good thing about these masks is that they offer some anonymity so let’s keep a low profile. I’d like to do this quickly and efficiently, so again, no guns. And no new computers (‘I wouldn’t buy a computer from  _ Walmart _ ’) and no… swords. Or weapons of any kind. Nothing that draws attention to us. Something small that will keep you from whining on the way back home.” 

“I do not  _ whine _ , Father, I strongly object.” 

“Well, get something that will keep you from strongly objecting,” Bruce tells Damian. “Okay, time to go. We can’t sit in the car forever. No, Tim, you can’t stay in the car,” he says when Tim opens his mouth. “It’s over 100 degrees outside, you will boil to death.”

“I have a compromised immune system,” Tim argues from behind his Wonder Woman mask. 

“What, did you suddenly lose your spleen?” Jason says sarcastically. 

“I didn’t… sleep… well?” 

“You haven’t slept well since you learned to use a keyboard,” Jason says. “Now, move it, so that we’ll actually get to go home during day time hours.” 

“Come on, Dami, you can pick a treat for Titus, too,” Dick says to encourage the youngest out of the car. It does the trick and 10 minutes after parking, the family finally exits the vehicle. 

“Why did we take this shitty minivan anyway?” Jason asks as they start making their way through the parking lot. “Why do you even have it?”

“You’re in an awfully questioning mood,” Bruce comments instead of answering. 

“That’s what happens when I’m forced into questionable circumstances,” Jason says. “Again, why the minivan if it’s so shitty you can’t leave the AC on when parked?” 

“Language,” Bruce says but more out of habit than hope he can actually stop the 17-year-old from cursing. “I have a minivan because I’m a parent. I picked it because it’s normal and we can go grocery shopping in a local Walmart without people automatically recognizing us because of the car. And apparently, it’s safe.” 

“Well, damn, look at you making sensible choices,” Jason says. 

“I have four children,” Bruce says. He pulls a cart out of a stack and starts pushing it forward. It makes an awful noise against the concrete and he comes up with several ways to improve it within five seconds. “I let three of them fight crime at night. The least I can do is have one civilian car that is more safe than beautiful.” 

“Sure. Maybe do something about the AC, though, so that when this happens again, Tim can stay in the car and I don’t have to stop him from running into walls,” Jason says as he takes a hold of Tim’s hood seconds before he walks face-first into the brick wall of the building. Tim doesn’t even look up from his tapping as Jason steers him inside through the automatic doors. 

Bruce sighs. Again. “Yeah. I’ll fix it. Tim, buddy? Pay attention or I’ll put you in the cart.”

“I’m 13.”

“Act like it.”

“Why? Dick’s a 20-year-old cop and he’s currently skipping rope in the middle of the aisle.” 

So he is. Bruce closes his eyes for a brief second before promptly stomping to where Dick is counting his hops. Damian is observing his older brother with his arms crossed, declaring that he is much more skilled in this activity and that he must be allowed to show it. 

“Dick,” Bruce says in a tone that prompts Dick to stop at 98.

“Sorry,” Dick says and even with his ridiculous Flash mask, it’s obvious he’s smiling. “This is my treat,” he declares and puts the skipping rope in the cart. “Don’t worry, Damian, you’ll get your chance to beat me at home.” 

Damian huffs and starts storming off. Dick, however, catches him easily and quickly manages to silence the youngest one’s protests of being picked up. Bruce doesn’t hear what he says but Damian deflates and apparently succumbs to his fate of being carried. 

Bruce is just glad he at least doesn’t have to worry about Damian running off. He might routinely take him out to train (not fight, not yet) out in the streets of Gotham but somehow the idea of losing the tiny boy in this huge store scares Bruce more. It’s probably because while he knows Gotham’s streets like the back of his hand, the seemingly endless aisles of his goddamn hypermarket are unknown to him. 

“Okay, Alfred has made us a list. Let’s stick together and get this done. First, milk.” 

Collecting all the items they need is less of a disaster than Bruce had feared, but it is still an interesting experience. At some point, Bruce sees that there is a single dinner plate, a bouquet of fake flowers, a frame with a picture of a duck in it as well as a box of bright yellow candles in the cart. A quick deduction tells him that Tim has been picking out things from the shelves without really even looking so instead of some things they actually need, they now have this random selection of stuff. Bruce sends Jason and Tim to put ‘Tim’s treasures’ (as Dick dubs them) back where they belong while he, Dick, and Damian get the toilet paper, dish washing liquid, soap, and hand sanitizer that Tim was actually supposed to collect. 

“He takes after you,” Dick says. “Instead of random kids, he picks out random household items.”

“I am not random!”

“None of you are random,” Bruce assures Damian. “Dick was kidding.” 

“There’s some truth to it,” Dick smiles. 

Bruce doesn’t comment. 

25 minutes later, their cart is filled with all the essentials that a family needs, multiplied by six. They fall further behind on schedule a bit when Damian spends several minutes picking out the right couscous and quinoa and again when Jason and Tim make it a game to find the most perfect oranges out of the huge pile. At least it takes Tim eyes away from the tablet for a little while so Bruce decides not to complain. 

“All right, last but not least: The cereal. Then we can pick your treats and head home,” Bruce says when Jason and Tim put the plastic bag of oranges onto their pile of products. 

“Good, this god damn mask is starting to itch,” Jason says.

“Don’t touch it!” Bruce says quickly. “That defeats the purpose.” 

“Ugh.” 

“It is a test of will power,” Damian says. He had moved to be carried on Dick’s back at some point. “My nose has been itching for several minutes and I have not given in to the will to scratch it.” 

“Yeah, you just rub your masked nose against Dick’s shoulder like the iron-willed little assassin you are,” Jason chuckles. 

Damian’s eyes narrow. “I came up with a solution to my predicament. Grandfather would be proud of me.”

“Sure thing, little kitten.” 

“Richard, I will make you eat this mask.” 

“Aww, but you are so  _ cute _ !” 

“Father, I demand that we buy plain black masks from this store!” 

“Choose your words,” Bruce says. 

“...I request.”

“Good. We’ll see if they have any.” 

“But Bruce!” 

“Go pick out the cereal,” Bruce says to silence Dick’s complaint. “Jason, Alfred has specifically written ‘NO COCO PUFFS’. Tim, you can… Where’s Tim?” 

“On it,” Jason says before Bruce can panic and half-jogs back the way they came. Bruce takes a moment to assure himself that Tim has not been kidnapped before turning back to Dick and Damian. Dick has picked out a box of cereal that’s been his favorite since he was nine and Damian is reading the contents list of a brand that claims to be healthier than others. 

“Lies!” his youngest declares and puts the box back. “No nutritional value whatsoever!” 

“Yeah, but they taste good,” Dick says. “Wally buys them sometimes.” 

“A Speedster should be the last to buy food simply for the taste,” Damian says. 

“Don’t worry, Wally knows he can’t live off sugar alone.”

“I do not worry about your stupid boyfriend!” 

“Don’t call his boyfriend stupid,” Bruce chastises gently just as Jason appears with Tim in tow. When Bruce sees that Tim’s hood is attached to a dog’s leash that Jason is holding, he doesn’t even question it. “Did you open the box?” he asks, nodding at the leash. 

“I figured we could buy it for Titus,” Jason shrugs. 

“Titus does not need to be leashed like an animal!” 

“What do you mean ‘like an animal’? He  _ is  _ an animal,” Jason says. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no!” Dick laughs when Damian tries to launch himself at Jason. “Why don’t you and I go find something to bring back to the mighty Titus, hm? B, we’ll meet you by the check out in 15 minutes?” 

“Sure, yeah. Keep your phone on.”

“Aye, aye, boss.” 

Damian is still glaring daggers at Jason as Dick carries him off to the pet section. Jason doesn’t seem bothered by this as he picks out the very forbidden Coco Puffs. “My treat,” he says when Bruce raises his eyebrows. They stare at each other for about 10 seconds before Jason sighs and puts the box back. Bruce knows it’s not his skills as a father but the thought of Alfred’s wrath that makes Jason change his mind. 

“Do you want cereal, Tim?” Bruce asks his leashed son. 

“No, thank you.” 

“Jason? Something other than Coco Puffs?” 

“Eh, I guess I’ll get Cheerios.” 

“Great. So. What will keep you quiet on the way home?” 

Turns out, Tim is  _ picky _ . Bruce sort of automatically leads them to the entertainment and technology section but apparently anything electronic that doesn’t have the Wayne Enterprises logo on it is unacceptable. At least he’s loyal to the family brand, Bruce tells himself as he puts down a pair of noise canceling headphones. 

“If the goal is to keep us quiet then Tim doesn’t need a treat,” Jason points out. 

“I want to be fair,” Bruce says. 

“Why? He probably won’t even notice.” 

“Oh, he will notice and it will bite me in the ass one day.” 

“Fine. I know what will satisfy him,” Jason says. “Timmy, come on. No, this way. Good boy.” 

“Stop treating him like a puppy,” Bruce sighs. 

“I would if he didn’t tend to wander off,” Jason counters. “If Titus really doesn’t need this then I’ll buy it for Tim.” 

“I can hear you,” Tim says. 

“Then learn something,” Jason replies. “Oooooh, a Fidget Spinner! I thought these went out of style already!” he says and stops to pick out the most obnoxious colored toy from the selection. 

He leads them through a couple of more sections before stopping in front of a huge fridge filled with drinks of all sorts. He taps Tim on the top of his head to get this attention and grandly motions at the assortment of sugary treats. Tim lowers his tablet to choose and then picks out something that is half-chocolate, half-coffee, all sugar and Bruce briefly wonders how much caffeine is good for a kid Tim’s age. 

A little can’t hurt, he decides (And this decision  _ does _ bite him in the ass one day, big time) because Tim doesn’t only look satisfied but happy with his choice. Jason gives Bruce a thumbs up, and Bruce sends Dick a message to say they’re ready, even though they are due to meet in 4 minutes anyway. 

_ Just remember that Titus is very special _ is the text he receives in response and he’s suddenly filled with dread. 

“No,” he says flat out when he sees his oldest and youngest, dragging a shopping basket filled with what Damian deems ‘essential’. “Why didn’t you stop him?” he asks Dick. 

“I don’t want to be maimed in my sleep,” Dick says but there’s humor in his voice. “Since when does anyone in our house eat Cheerios?” he continues when he peeks into the shopping cart. 

“Since Jason binged five seasons of Glee in two weeks,” Tim says. 

Dick's eyes light up in a way that suggests that an absolutely delighted grin appears on his face while Jason’s eyes widen in horror. “You told me you hated it!” 

“I do hate it!” Jason exclaims. 

“Five seasons. In two weeks.” 

“Tim!” 

“You like the Cheerios, then? Or just one? Tell me, tell me, tell me! Is it Quinn? Or Brittany? Or…” 

“No.” 

“Leave him alone, Dick,” Bruce says. 

“This is highly important information to me!” 

“What is this Glee you speak of? Is it worth my time?” 

“In a couple of years, yeah, it totally is,” Dick says. 

Jason snorts. “He was literally born into a league of assassins and you think he’s too young for Glee? And no, by the way, it isn’t.” 

“It  _ is _ , and excuse me for trying to provide my little brother with a somewhat normal childhood. Oh, don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean!” 

“Let’s just pay and go home, okay? Sound good? Damian, pick one item for Titus from that basket.” 

“If I choose to leave this here,” Damian starts and holds up a Tamagotchi that is clearly meant to be his treat. “Can I bring two things for Titus?” 

Bruce agrees if only because Damian was willing to negotiate instead of threaten and demand, and after a good five minutes of careful deliberation, Damian selects a high-end brain activity toy as well as something that squeaks that Bruce can hopefully hide without Damian or the dog noticing. 

400 dollars and countless nerves poorer, Bruce is finally pushing the shopping cart to the car when Jason suddenly stops in the middle of the parking lot and blurts out: “It’s Kurt.”

The rest of the family stops as well. 

“What’s Kurt?” Bruce asks while Dick goes: “Oh my God,  _ Jason _ …” There’s no humor in his voice this time.

“What?” Damian asks and Bruce agrees with him.

“The cheerleader. That I… like. In Glee. It’s… Kurt. His name is Kurt.” 

Bruce blinks. 

And he blinks again.

Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

Dick reacts faster than him and pulls his younger brother into a hug right there in the Walmart parking lot. 

“That was brave,” Dick says. 

“It’s not like I thought you wouldn’t be fine with it.”

“Still.” Dick lets Jason go. “We must celebrate!” 

“I’m not watching Glee with you.”

“You say that now.” 

Jason huffs, his eyes now on Bruce. Bruce reaches out to squeeze his shoulder and offers him a soft smile. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Jason puts his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His cheeks are a little red. “Did you know already?” he asks Tim. 

Tim shrugs. “I suspected.” 

“This does not change my opinion of you in any way,” Damian says. 

“Was it ever favorable?” 

“It could be lower.” 

“Gee. Thanks. Now, seriously, let’s go home.” 

Damian falls asleep promptly after 10 minutes of driving. He might be an assassin but he’s seven and the steady hum of the car after such a new experience is enough to knock him out. Tim’s sipping his less than healthy drink while Jason has put on his headphones and twirls his Spinner in time with the music he’s listening to. 

“What did you say to Damian? When you picked him up? I thought he’d scratch your eyes out.” Bruce asks Dick about half-way home. 

“That he’s too mighty to walk amongst the peasants,” Dick replies. 

Bruce can’t quite hide the smile that lifts the corner of his lip. “I kind of hoped you’d be the one to teach him humility.” 

“I’m taking him to the soup kitchen with me next week.” 

“Good.” Bruce takes his eyes off the road for a second to glance at the rearview mirror. “Do you think Jason’s okay?”

Dick’s smile is soft. “Yeah. He’s fine.” 

“Should I… talk to him?”

“He’ll come to you.” 

“You sure?”   
“Yeah.”

“Okay.” They drive in silence for a few minutes. “Hey, uh… I know Wally is due back in a few days but do you think you could come along again when we eventually do have to do this again?”

Dick grins. “Absolutely. I have a box full of masks that I want to try, after all.”

Only then does Bruce remember that they forgot to buy the plain masks Damian requested. He makes a mental note to order a pile of them online and can only hope they are delivered before their next trip to Walmart. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also based on how I came out to my mother in the middle of a supermarket when we were Christmas shopping.


End file.
